


More Commonly Known As

by tomanonuniverse



Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Campfires, Camping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), Geralt Fluff Week 2020, M/M, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Sharing Body Heat, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25812499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: Geralt Fluff Week 2020: Cuddling/HugsThe only reason Dettlaff approached him was to share the warmth of his campfire. Winter is coming, and she never has mercy in her journey. All vampires, even higher ones, are incapable of producing their own body heat. But even with the flames crackling between them, Geralt can still hear the other’s teeth chattering because of the cold.“Dettlaff,” Geralt suddenly says, startling the higher vampire into looking at him. He extends a hand out to the man. “Come here.”
Relationships: Dettlaff van der Eretein & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869967
Comments: 3
Kudos: 101





	More Commonly Known As

**Author's Note:**

> I love Geralt and I love Dettlaff so here we are LMAO

Geralt is trying to keep the air of nonchalance but the longer this strange silence goes on, the more tense he becomes. He’s aware that there’s someone, or something, standing right behind the trees around his campfire. He can feel eyes glaring daggers into the back of his head. But even with his medallion still against his chest he can tell they’re not human, he would have smelled that by now.

“I know you’re there,” he finally concedes, his hand snaking its way to one of the smaller daggers on his person. It was clear that whatever was observing him was keen on doing just that and nothing more. If he wanted them to leave, he was going to have to start the altercation himself. “Show yourself.”

The forest remains silent for another moment, then small footsteps begin to sound. They become louder and louder, the figure obviously approaching Geralt and his campfire. Just as the silhouette becomes a bit more visible, the witcher’s brows shoot into his hairline and his hand leaves the hilt of his dagger.

Dettlaff steps out into the light, hands thrown up in surrender and expression unreadable. “White Wolf,” he greets hesitantly, carefully keeping his expression neutral as he eyes Geralt with caution. It’s only when the witcher nods does he let his hands fall and puff out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Geralt muses, tilting his head at the higher vampire in confusion. It’s been a good year since the events in Beauclair, since the witcher let the vampire go in Tesham Mutna. He didn’t think he’d ever see Dettlaff again. “There a reason you’re stalking my campfire in the middle of nowhere?”

The other purses his lips and grimaces slightly as the gruffness of the witcher’s voice, almost like he hadn’t been spoken to in a long while. Geralt mules the thought over with a frown, brows furrowed in what he wouldn’t admit was concern if you’d asked him. He sees Dettlaff’s strikingly icy blue eyes glance to the flames between them and a little understanding dawns to him.

He gives the vampire permission to sit by gesturing to the grass and inclining his head downwards. Dettlaff’s eyes never leave his as he slowly falls to his knees, shoulders still tense despite the fact that Geralt obviously meant him no harm. The witcher blinks at him slowly before spreading out his bedroll and taking a seat above it.

It’s awkward. Very awkward, actually. Geralt isn’t sure why it is, but it might have to do something with the fact that last he saw the higher vampire, he had sent his pack on a homicidal rampage against innocents on his behalf. Geralt also went to  _ jail  _ for letting the man leave with his life. That also made things tense.

“I was under the impression that you no longer went out on the witcher’s Path,” the higher vampire finally speaks, breaking the terse and rather unbearable silence. Geralt tilts his head at him. Dettlaff clears his throat and explains. “You still had your vineyard after you… served your time. Or so I’ve heard.”

Geralt feels one of his brows raise slightly at that. Dettlaff had kept tabs on him.

He leans back and draws one of his knees to himself, throwing his arm over it while leaning back on his other hand. “You heard correct,” he tells him, watching the fire closely but still seeing the other move in his peripheral. “But I don’t feel like hanging my swords up just yet. I just go back there to winter. As I am coincidentally doing now.”

Dettlaff’s form tenses and Geralt smirks. Bingo.

“Is that where you’re headed?” The witcher inquires, turning to the higher vampire with a curious look. “You going back to Toussaint?”

_ “No!”  _ The other responds, too quickly. “I  _ can’t  _ go back there. You know this.”

Geralt grunts. “Yeah, but you wanna see Regis, don’t you?”

Dettlaff doesn’t grace him with a response but the witcher knows he got it in one regardless. He exhales, almost feeling bad for the higher vampire. It was painfully clear the Dettlaff had been all by his lonesome this entire time. Geralt was probably the first person he’s spoken to all year. And he doubts the other even wanted to.

The only reason Dettlaff approached him was to share the warmth of his campfire. Winter is coming, and she never has mercy in her journey. All vampires, even higher ones, are incapable of producing their own body heat. But even with the flames crackling between them, Geralt can still hear the other’s teeth chattering because of the cold.

“Dettlaff,” Geralt suddenly says, startling the higher vampire into looking at him. He extends a hand out to the man. “Come here.”

Dettlaff blinks owlishly at him, glancing between his hands and his face. He doesn’t seem to understand why he was being beckoned over because his brows furrow in confusion as he stands. He warily makes his way over to the witcher, whose hand remains extended to him. He stares at it for a moment, then tentatively places his own within, still bewildered by the whole ordeal.

Geralt frowns at the cold touch but shakes his head and tugs the other downward as gently as he could. Dettlaff raises a brow but obeys, dropping down next to the witcher. It’s only when Geralt pulls him into himself and wraps his arm around him does he go entirely still, eyes wide and breath caught in his throat from surprise.

“...What are you doing, witcher?” He dares himself to ask, very pointedly looking at the ground to avoid Geralt’s eyes.

The witcher  _ chuckles  _ at him, the sound reverberating through his entire form. “Sharing body heat. Though it’s more commonly known as  _ cuddling,”  _ he replies matter-of-factly, like this wasn’t at all strange to him. “We’re still ways away from Toussaint. Can’t have you becoming a Dettlaff-shaped icicle before we even get close. Besides, neither of us would have gotten any sleep otherwise. I can hear your bones rattling.”

“You can  _ not,”  _ Dettlaff argues weakly, even though he can already feel himself melting into Geralt’s arms. The witcher laughs at him again and gently guides him down into the bedroll he’d laid down earlier.

If Geralt had been worried he was overstepping his boundaries, Dettlaff snaking his hands around his middle instantly quelled any concerns he might have had on the matter. The witcher hums thoughtfully, pulling the other closer and letting him duck his head underneath his chin. He briefly wonders what a sight they make, two grown men cuddling in the forest, before his eyes close and he allows himself to fall asleep.


End file.
